


answers

by chrkrose



Series: constant. [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrkrose/pseuds/chrkrose
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: constant. [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555945
Comments: 18
Kudos: 155





	answers

The raven arrives several moons after the last time Brienne has seen Jaime.

_ “Twenty thousand men. More than half of the entirety of the Lannister’s army”  _ Lady Sansa says after reading it out loud.  _ “They must arrive in a fortnight I presume”. _

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

She thought it was worse, when she didn’t know where he was or if she would ever see him again. Worse, to imagine if he was dead, his body lying somewhere she would never know; worse, to imagine if he was alive and not thinking of her at all, and she would never know, because she would always hope.

She thought it was worse, to think about it, day after day; to remember.  _ I do not regret it,  _ she kept telling herself in the daylight, even if he was not thinking of her, even if he doesn’t remember the way the shadows played with her hair, even if he didn’t think about the sounds she made. Brienne does not regret it. How could she? How could she regret knowing his touch, the taste of his lips ( _ and his hair, liquid gold under the glow of the fire and the sounds that escaped his lips _ )? 

  
  
  
  


* * *

(At night, lying beneath the furs, her heart small and bruised beneath her ribcage, thoughts of her father and honor and duty and marriage and children and the tears choking her breath just by the thought of  _ him _ , and how much she misses him,  _ all of it _ , all of it… all of it feels a lot like regretting).

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Of course she was wrong. Jaime will arrive in a fortnight and it’s so much worse, to know she’ll have all the answers she never wanted.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

_ I’ll ask him if he wishes me to give him back Oathkeeper. Certainly a blade so fine must be returned to his house, _ Brienne thinks. It’s reasonable to seek him out to ask him that. 

At night, she clutches Oathkeeper beneath the furs, and decides she can’t be parted from such a fine blade. If Jaime asks for her to return it, she will. But she can’t find in herself to speak of the idea out loud. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

_ Mayhaps I can ask him of his journey, of what happened in the south.  _ Podrick looks at her with confusion when Brienne forgets she was supposed to show him what move he would be learning next. 

_ “Forgive me. I haven’t slept well”. _

_ “It’s alright, my l-lady, ser.” _

  
  
  
  


* * *

The fire at the hearth burns in the same way her thoughts burn inside her head. Thoughts of Jaime and Tommen and Cersei running away from King’s Landing and living safely and happily in Casterly Rock. Thoughts of Jaime dreading to be parted from the woman who holds his heart and their son, but doing it anyway because he promised to aid the North. 

By the time she decides to sleep, Brienne no longer wishes to ask Jaime anything about his adventures escaping the pretender and coming back to his ancestor home. Some things are better not known. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

_ Would he comfort me, if he knew my father had not replied to my last raven?  _

  
  
  
  


* * *

At night, thoughts of Tarth make her eyes sting and she’s ashamed of wishing for Jaime’s comfort when she should be wishing only for her father’s letter.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

He arrives a day earlier, the crimson sea looming in the white horizon and Brienne feels her heart stop for a whole second before it threatens to escape her chest. 

She thought she would have more time. She thought she would have tonight to sleep - to  _ not sleep -  _ she thought-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Jaime stands in the great hall. Tall, his Lannister armor sparkling as if he hasn’t come all the way from Casterly Rock to Winterfell on a horse, twenty thousand men following his lead.

His hair is long, longer than last time she saw him. From where she’s seated she can’t see the strands of grays she found in them by the light of the hearth at an inn so many moons ago.

He’s talking, and so is Lady Sansa and Jon Snow but she can barely hear them. She catches bits of information. The army will stay outside the castle for lack of space. They will be fed and attended to as if they were home. Ser Jaime will have his chambers inside the castle, as it befits his station of Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Commander of the Lannister’s Army. 

Then it’s done and Lady Sansa stands up and everyone does the same. And Brienne leaves the hall as fast as she can. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

He walks among the red tents and men outside as if he owns the whole North. Brienne watches him from above, from the walls of the castle. 

Night is falling fast, the cold brutal, and she hasn’t spoken a word to him. Hasn’t sought him out. Neither has he.  _ Why would he? Silly girl.  _

The voice in her head sounds a lot like her old Septa.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Brienne stalls as much as she can, walking around the castle and outside. She’s aware of Jaime’s presence, sees him by the corner of her eye thirty steps to her right; knows he’s fifty steps behind her talking to Ser Adam Marbrand. 

When it’s time for dinner, she sees him with his generals seated at one of the tables near where Lady Sansa and her brother are. A place for honored guests. Brienne sits with Pod and Hunt, and eats and tries her best not to look at his direction.

_ Tomorrow,  _ she thinks, later, when she cannot find reasons to roam around in hopes Jaime crosses her path. Tomorrow she will greet him. Will ask him if he’s well, will tell him she’s glad he’s safe here in the north, for now at least.  _ I had much to do the day before,  _ she’ll say when he asks why she hasn’t spoken to him today. 

If he asks, that is. 

_ Has he noticed?  _ She wonders, and maybe he has not. He had, indeed, much to do. To discuss battle plans and strategy and how to best position the Lannister’s forces. And probably other things, political issues she has no knowledge about. He’s now Lord of Casterly Rock. He has people to protect. His own people. And his castle.  _ And his other half, someone he yearns for, waiting for him.  _

Tears spring to her eyes without warning and she drops her head, staring at the ground just in case she crosses someone’s path until she’s right in front of her chambers, and she pushes the door open. 

  
  


Jaime.

Jaime in her chambers. On her bed. In his tunic and breeches and barefoot. 

_ “Took you long enough”  _ he stands up.

Was he waiting for her? 

_ “I… I didn't know y-you…I t-thought-“ _

_ “Brienne.”  _ A pause. He eyes her up and down, twice.  _ “Close the door and come here”. _

She does as he says.

When she’s close enough to touch, he reaches for her. Wraps his arms around her, his hand in her hair, his face buried in her neck. 

She wraps her arms around him too.

_ “By the gods, how I have missed your scent.”  _

Her face bursts into flames, but he does not notice. Too preoccupied with nuzzling her neck instead. And then the nuzzling turns into kisses. The kisses become wetter. By the time he’s kissing her jaw, she’s already melting into his embrace. When he covers her mouth with his, she’s nothing but boneless in his arms.

  
  
  
  


* * *

The second time it’s nothing like she remembers. For one, there’s a desperation crawling inside of her that overcomes even her shyness. Like Oathkeeper, she can’t stand being parted from him even a second too long so that makes it hard to strip from their clothes.

_ “Wench let me-“  _ his voice is muffled by her too eager mouth, her hands clutching to his shoulders as he lays on top of her. Jaime’s hand tries to sneak inside her tunic, but their chests are flushed against each other so his touch only goes as far as her ribs. 

He squeezes her there and she yelps, ticklish. Jaime has an amused glint in his eyes, and then pries himself from her, kneeling between her open thighs. 

Brienne closes her eyes, embarrassment taking over. She feels like suddenly waking up, self consciously retracing her actions in her mind. How he tried to break apart their kiss several times. She flushes.

_ “I… f-forgive me. I shouldn’t-“  _ her words fall silent when she feels his hand on her inner thigh, and when she opens her eyes, his green ones are roaming over her. His hand moves to the laces of her breeches, and when they are undone, he slips his hand inside, leaning down on top of her again. 

He cups her cunt, warm palm against her skin, and she gasps. This time Jaime kisses her lazily, tongue slipping inside her mouth and stroking her own, teeth pulling at her lower lip until he has it between his own. Sucking it softly. Tracing her lips with his tongue. 

He strokes the curly hair between her thighs, then traces his fingers between her folds. Dips in the wetness there, then traces back up until he finds that spot, the one he had found the first time too, the one he seems to know, the one she found out on cold nights lying beneath the furs thinking of another night at an inn. He makes her arch against him.

_ “Take off your tunic. Let me feel your skin”  _ he whispers against her mouth, and Brienne nods because she doesn’t think she can say anything while he touches her like that. When she strips off the garment, Jaime trails lazy kisses from her neck to her collarbones and in between her breasts. He takes one in his mouth, and slips one finger inside her, where she’s greedy for him.

  
  
  
  


* * *

The second time is nothing like the first. When she can’t take no more of his teasing, no more of his mouth on her skin, of his tongue tracing plump and wet flesh, when she thinks she’s about to die of how much she wants him, he seems to read her mind, taking himself in hand, guiding his cock until he enters her in a thrust so smooth it sends shivers down her spine, goosebumps breaking all over her arms.

Jaime takes her slowly this time. And harder than before. A contradiction in itself, and a contrast to his gentle but faster pace when they did this last.

This time, she feels as if he’s marking her. Making her his. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

On the morrow, she’ll learn her answers:

How he had his son sailed to Dorne to escape The Pretender.

How his twin rots somewhere in the black cells of The Red Keep. 

How the words whispered in her ear with the sweat cooling on their skin weren’t empty promises to be forgotten in the night:

_ “On the morrow, I want to marry you” _


End file.
